


The Oh So Chaotic Epilogue With Jean The Waitress and Syana The Bookshop Girl

by ServantOfMischief



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Aziraphale wants Crowley to meet his friend, Chaotic Good, Comedy, Epilogue, Fluff and Crack, Ineffable Idiots, Jean the Waitress vs Syana the Bookshop Girl, Said Friend is In A Chaotic Battle With Her Friend, Sort Of, This is the final part of Soft Comforts, ineffable husbands, purely crack from me and Pinkpiggy93
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-09
Updated: 2019-10-09
Packaged: 2020-11-28 10:06:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,635
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20964764
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ServantOfMischief/pseuds/ServantOfMischief
Summary: In which Aziraphale wants to introduce Crowley to Jean the Waitress, but the waitress is locked in an epic battle with her artistic friend. Literally a crack ending to the Soft Comforts series, but it's not actually saved as a Soft Comforts workI do not consent to my work being reposted, or used in any unofficial apps like Fanfic Pocket Archive Library (Unofficial) or the like!





	The Oh So Chaotic Epilogue With Jean The Waitress and Syana The Bookshop Girl

**Author's Note:**

> Literally just me and pinkpiggy93 as Jean and Syana the Bookshop girl from pinkpiggy93's comic strip from the Soft Comforts series. Chaotic energy follows. No joke, this is what we've been doing for weeks now, yelling and throwing art and fics at each other in order to feel Dat Pain
> 
> I do not consent to my work being reposted, or used in any unofficial apps like Fanfic Pocket Archive Library (Unofficial) or the like!

Anthony J. Crowley has heard a lot about Jean the waitress. Aziraphale has told Crowley how he had befriended the waitress _after _the whole incident with the drawing that cheered Crowley up on a shitty day and had assured the redhead that in no way had they been conspiring that day. Aziraphale have really mad that point come across. Well, Crowley wouldn’t have been bothered if they had been conspiring together, but that explains the woman’s behaviour the last few times he’d visited the coffee shop before he realized that Aziraphale and the artist is the same person.

While Aziraphale may not have worked together with her, the woman _had_ played matchmaker with them on her own, with her own little agenda. And now Aziraphale wants him to meet with this woman, get to know his friends, which there are precious few of, Crowley has learned. It’s both understandable, and a complete mystery to Crowley. True, Aziraphale keeps to his bookshop mostly, but he’s a literal magnet too. People are drawn to him. An admirable quality, truly. 

“Her boyfriend is a waiter at the Ritz, that’s how I managed to get us a reservation that time. Oh Jean is absolutely wonderful.” Aziraphale says as he opens the door to the mostly empty coffee shop. Aziraphale had truly surprised him then. The Ritz is always fullbooked, after all.

“You’ll love her, I’m sure-“

“_How dare you!” _Jean’s voice echoes from one corner of the shop, and the two men turn towards her to see her look like she’s about to burst into tears at something on the screen of her laptop.

“Oh dear, Jean?” Aziraphale says as he moves towards her table, obviously worried that something is wrong, and wanting to be there for her should she need support, but before he gets far, there’s a second shout, at the other end of the shop.

“That’s what you get for that story you wrote about the dog dying!” Another voice echoes, and the two men sees a short-haired woman at the other end look rather smug as she crosses her arms over her chest.

“It’s zombie fiction! The dog got bit, they had to put it down! What were the characters supposed to do, _bring an infected dog along? What is this, Resident Evil?_” Jean shouts, looking nearly enraged. Crowley quickly notices how the few customers who are there are watching the exchange, not with annoyance, but with great interest and quiet laughter. Also, one of the waiters hurry over to Jean with what looks suspiciously a lot like a chocolate milkshake.

“Here, Jean. Enjoy this and take revenge!”

“Oh I will!” Jean snarls, snatching the milkshake and slurping loudly through the straw as she clicks a few buttons on her laptop. There’s a short silence before the other woman shrieks again, looking well and truly heartbroken for a second. Another worker runs over with a cup of something, patting the woman’s shoulder.

“Here, Syana. Take a sip of your Irish coffee and show her exactly what you think of what she sent you.” The woman, Syana, grabs the cup and a pencil, glaring across the shop at Jean, who returns it with just as much venom.

“I’m going to hurt you!” Syana snaps, before she hunches over a sketchbook.

“Not if I hurt you first!” Jean snaps back, beginning to type furiously at her laptop. There’s a silent murmur passing through the customers and the two workers passes around with a small box, and Crowley can actually hear them all place bets as they drop money into the box. Aziraphale looks at him, absolutely flabbergasted, which means that the blonde has never come across this phenomenon at the coffee shop before, despite it appearing to be something commonly known to the people here right now. Crowley just can’t keep himself from pointing out how Aziraphale had said Jean is a lovely person.

“Oh yes, seems very lovely, that one.” He says and Aziraphale purses his lips, before gently stopping the worker wandering around with the box.

“Yes, sir? You want to place a bet too? Who will fold first, Syana or Jean? Right now it’s anyone’s game.”

“Oh, er, no, I just want to know what is going on? Is Jean alright?” He asks and the worker blinks, before laughing and waving his hand.

“Oh yeah, she and Syana both sit here on Tuesdays, Jean writing fiction and Syana drawing. Usually they compete to see who can bring about the greatest influx of likes, retweets, reblogs and such, they’ve both got a following on their social media platforms, but lately they’ve been writing and drawing really sad stuff, and they take fake offense from whatever the other comes up with. So now they’re both writing and drawing sad stuff to see which one of them will give up and burst into tears first.” Aziraphale seems alarmed at the explanation, and the worker hurries to tell him that it isn’t serious, that it’s just the way the two compete sometimes, and that it is great entertainment to the customers. It’s not really _real_, they are very much good friends, they just like to tease each other.

“It’s been like this for the last two or three weeks. Syana drew something sad from a really moving fiction she showed to Jean, and Jean cried over it, and when Syana sent her updates of her sketches, Jean just, well, she decided to retaliate, even if Syana never meant anything by it, and it kind of escalated from there. If you’re asking me, I’m betting on Syana. She’s a good artist, I’ve felt emotional over the most peaceful of her pieces, and that was one of her happier ones.”

“Oh, well in that case, I should be a good friend and bet on Jean, then.” Aziraphale says and Crowley nearly chokes on his spit as his boyfriend drops some money into the box.

“I wager she’ll have her friend in the corner tearful before the day is over.”

“Oho, sir, bold of you.” The waiter says before moving on. Crowley gapes at Aziraphale before snorting.

“You’re a bastard, you know that?”

“Whatever is that supposed to mean?” Aziraphale fakes offence, before heading over towards Jean and sitting down beside her. She briefly glances up, shoots him a small smile and a greeting, before she’s back to staring at her screen again, fingers quickly tapping over the keys.

“Jean, I wanted to formally introduce you to Anthony.” Aziraphale says, gesturing to the redhead who takes a seat beside him. Jean doesn’t even look up from her screen as she reaches one hand out for the man to shake, and then she’s back to writing again. Aziraphale is a bit put out, but Crowley doesn’t really take any offense to it. Jean is clearly in the middle of an important challenge, and he can respect that. He finds it just as amusing as the rest of the customers, this little battle of hers with her friend. And he is also curious about which one of them will fold first. Two or three weeks, that’s some dedication there.

“I’ll go get us something to drink.” He tells Aziraphale as he gets up, and the blonde nods, feeling more than just a little put off by Jean’s anti-social, and frankly rude, behaviour.

“Two seconds, Aziraphale.” Jean mutters before she moves the cursor across the screen and sends the draft she just wrote. Then she shuts the laptop and turns towards him, grinning.

“Hi. Sorry, I’m just in the middle of something, but it can wait. I’ll win this round the moment she checks her mail.” And this is more familiar to Aziraphale, so he grins back.

“I really thought you’d be at work, that if we came during the quiet hours, we could steal you away for a bit.”

“Oh, nope sorry, my day off, but I’ve got time.”

“Really? There is a betting pool going around-“

“Oooh, did you bet? You bet on me winning, right? You’d better have!”

“Of course I did, my dear.” Aziraphale tells her, rolling his eyes. “Why would I bet against my friend?”

“Good, you’d lose good money if you didn’t bet on me.” Jean says with such surety Aziraphale can’t help but laugh. When Crowley returns with their drinks, Jean does a proper introduction, before she grabs her milkshake and enjoys it, while pointing at Syana.

“Look, she’s been reading for some time now.”

“Where you even paying attention to _our _conversation?” Aziraphale huffs, crossing his arms and half-heartedly glaring at his friend, who waves her hand dismissively.

“Of course I was, I can multitask. Oh, look!” And they watch as Syana sucks in a breath, then lower lip, biting down, closing her eyes as she releases the breath she’s been holding, and her shoulders sag as she looks up and gives Jean a wobbly smirk.

“Oh that hurts so _good_!”

“God damnit!” Jean slams her fist onto the table just as her phone buzzes. She opens it, and this time Syana is the one watching Jean’s reaction and the blonde sucks in a breath, puts her phone down and closes her eyes, then croaks out.

“It’s okay, I didn’t need my heart anyways.” Then she signals for Aziraphale and Crowley to give her two seconds and she opens her laptop again, muttering something about a project she hasn’t told anyone about yet, and sends something.

“That should give us some time. Three chapters, she’ll be busy.” And that is true, Syana is kept busy for some minutes, and the three are left to their conversation, only to be rudely broken out of it when Syana suddenly slams her hands onto the table, nearly standing up in her aggravation.

“Jean, what the ever-loving hell?!”

“What?” Jean asks, but seems rather smug behind her milkshake, eyes narrowing as an impish grin spreads across her face.

“_You can’t just make me feel sympathy for a fallen angel who hurts himself by singing! It’s just not right!” _

“_Hah! GOT YOU!” _Jean shouts triumphantly, ignoring how the customers are looking back and forth between the two, muttering to themselves, laughing and nodding towards each of the women. This is certainly good entertainment for them, for some reason.

“I have a feeling this can go on the whole day.” Aziraphale says apologetically to Crowley, who raises a brow.

“Oh yeah. We’re going to stay for the whole thing, yeah? Because I bet on the other girl.”

“You what?”

“_You what?!”_ Jean turns on them and the blonde man rubs his face.

“Oh dear.” It does go on the whole day, and even when they leave Jean and Syana to it, there is still no winner in sight. After closing-time, Aziraphale receives a text that tells him that there is still no winner in the bet, and that Jean is very happy that he introduced Crowley to her.

“The bet is still on.” Aziraphale tells Crowley as he hands him a cup of tea, before taking a seat beside him on the couch. Wrapping an arm around the blonde’s shoulders, the redhead shrugs.

“Oh well, just means we have to go back next Tuesday, right?”

“You enjoyed that?” Aziraphale asks, quite surprised with his partner. He had hoped for a nice outing in which Crowley got to know his friend a little better, but all he felt happened was that they had been intruding on a moment between Jean and her friend, Syana, and that Jean hadn’t had much time for them. It had been enjoyable, of course, to see the blonde so utterly passionate about her projects, but at the same time he felt like they had been both intruding and well, it had been a bad time to see her.

“Oh yeah. It’s not like they were really out to hurt each other. To me, it seemed a lot more like they wanted each other’s opinion and approval of what they were working on, a collaboration of sorts. Seems nice, doesn’t it?”

“Oh, well, when you phrase it like that, then yes, I can understand.”

“Also, it was utterly hilarious watching them go ape-shit.” Crowley cackles and Aziraphale blows out a breath.

“Oh really, my dear boy, really?” But as Aziraphale thinks back on the whole outing, he also starts laughing, and they lean on each other to avoid falling off the couch as their bodies shake with their mirth. Aziraphale can’t remember the last time he laughed this hard, to the point there are actual tears escaping his eyes and he wipes them away carefully, before settling against Crowley’s side.

“She really is quite lovely though.”

“Oh yeah, I know. She sent me your way, and I’m glad she did.” Aziraphale does a little happy wiggle at Crowley’s words, before sighing. He is curious about Jean’s writing, he didn’t know she wrote fiction in her spare time. And he’d also really like to see Syana’s drawings, should he ever get the chance to ask her. He’d like to see her style, truly. It certainly seemed to have moved Jean to tears. Perhaps he can learn something, oh wouldn’t that be nice?

“You know, I rather do think we have to go back next Tuesday, see if we can’t cash in, as it were.”

“You really are a bastard, aren’t you?”

* * *

“So, that was them?” Syana asks, on her third Irish coffee for the day as she and Jean now share a table.

“Yuuup.” Jean pops the p, lazily tapping onto the keyboard, slouched in her seat and her fourth milkshake is dangerously close to being gone, and Syana eyes it. Jean is known for enjoying a milkshake when she’s been _properly and completely _“heartbroken” by one of Syana’s sketches. Not that Syana doesn’t enjoy breaking some hearts, causing a mass-cry on the internet, oh yes, it is very enjoyable, because people truly do enjoy it, but this is a bit excessive, isn’t it? Four milkshakes, oof, that’s a lot. Perhaps Syana had been going a bit overboard, but then she remembers the little notes and half-finished chapters Jean’s been sending her the whole day and thinks that, no, no she did not go overboard. She just gave as good as she got.

“How long have they been wandering around one another?”

“Months.”

“Oof, stressful.”

“You’ve got no idea.” Jean says, releasing a sigh as she shuts her laptop. Finally done, it only took half a day.

“I feel a bit bad. Didn’t know they would come around. I should get them another reservation at the Ritz, Aziraphale will forgive me then.”

“That easy?” Syana seems a bit sceptical about it, but Jean just shrugs.

“Good work today.” Jean says, stretching her arms above her head until there’s a loud pop from her back, before she grabs her milkshake and finishes it off, loudly. Syana just rolls her eyes, but is grinning none-the-less.

“Same to you. How long will this go on?”

“Who knows. I just know I’ve been writing way too much fluffy stuff lately. I think those two idiots are the reason, I swear, it’s been such a ride, my teeth almost rotted from the sweetness of it. I need to get back into the angst.”

“Wow, that’s one way to describe the whole thing.” There’s a silence before Jean just sinks down onto the table dramatically with a loud groan.

“I’m just so happy they figured it ou~~t!” She whines and Syana leans back in her seat, head lolling back as she stares at the ceiling.

“Yeah. Go, ineffable dorks in love.”

“Ineffable dorks!” Jean snickers, or at least it seems so with the way her shoulders shake. “I’ll use that someday.”

“Write a fic about it, I’ll draw a scene or two.”

“Will do, friend.”


End file.
